


Only Love Could Save Them

by hitchhikers_stardust



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Babies, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Original Child Characters, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Resurrection, Reunions, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, child birth, post-natal depression, post-s8, targlings, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 07:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitchhikers_stardust/pseuds/hitchhikers_stardust
Summary: Daenerys awakens in Volantis and attempts to rebuild her life whilst dealing with grief, heartbreak and impending motherhood. On the other side of the Narrow Sea Jon struggles to accept his actions and life beyond the Wall....or yet another post-canon resurrection fic because if you want something done properly do it yourself I guess





	1. Awakening

Daenerys awoke with a start. Her chest felt like what she’d imagine burning feeling like. She tried to gasp for air but it was almost impossible, as though a great weight was pressing down on her chest. She tried with all her might to open her eyelids, and they did so suddenly as she took a huge gasp. She sprung upwards and was immediately held by numerous women, all of whom appeared to be wearing deep crimson robes and looking at her with a range of emotions from pride to concern. Daenerys tried to shake these strangers off of her but her body felt heavy and exhausted, as though her very limbs would protest against her commands. 

It was then she saw a woman stood apart of from the rest. She was pretty with dark hair and a smile on her lips. Daenerys caught her eye amongst her panic, and in that second her memories came flooding back. The throne room, the snow, Jon.... oh gods, he stabbed her! He’d betrayed her, her love had killed her. She looked down at her naked form on the cold stone slab and sure enough there was a deep pink puckered stab wound located underneath her left breast. She cautiously raised a hand to touch it. The pain she felt there was somewhat phantom but no blood appeared on her finger tips. She then began to scream. What happened? Where was she? How did she get here? Was this the afterlife? She had to get off this table and away from these strange women. She had to find Drogon and her people. 

Daenerys tried to swing her leg over the side of the table to climb down, however the red-dressed strangers blocked her on all sides. As she tried to get up more and move she was met with resistance, as the women began holding onto her limbs. “Let me go!” she cried, as she began to feverishly struggle against them. “You need to rest Your Grace.” she heard one of them say, but the sound of their voice was almost drowned out as sheer panic once again began to fill her veins. It was fight or flight, and she violently began kicking her arms and legs in a weak attempt to free herself from their tight grasp. She saw a couple of the women whispering to one another and one gave a solemn nod. "NO, NO!" Dany screamed, as one returned carry something hidden in her hand. The next thing Daenerys knew was a damp foul-smelling cloth being placed over her mouth and nose. She tried to resist, violently shaking her head away, only the strong scent persisted, making her feel dizzy and her eyelids heavy until everything around her went black once again.

~*~

When Daenerys awoke it was to a throbbing headache, her head spinning as she adjusted to her surroundings. She was laying on a large comfortable bed in a spacious room filled with ornate furniture and gold walls. She slowly sat up, realising that she was no longer naked and was instead wearing a thin white shift. Then she saw her again, sat on an armchair in one of the corners of the room, smiling. Daenerys gasped, surprised that this woman had seemingly popped up out of nowhere. “Who are you?” she demanded, trying but failing to sound stern.

“My name is Kinvara, Your Grace.” said the dark-haired woman, “I am one of the High Priestesses here at the Red Temple and one of the servants of the Lord of Light. It is He who has resurrected you, Daenerys Stormborn.” Resurrected, Daenerys thought. So, she had really died, she knew it as such. She remembered the way she struggled to breath, the unbearably sharpness of the cold blade in her chest, the awful metallic taste of blood rising from the back of her throat until she was coughing it up, the bizarre ticklish feeling of it trickling across her face from her nose. And then nothing, as though she had had a dreamless sleep until she awoke on the stone table. “Resurrected? Like Jon Snow?” Dany asked tentatively. 

“Yes I believe so. Before the Battle of the Dawn the priestess Melisandre returned here to Volantis. She told us of the resurrection of one Jon Snow and your meeting with one another. She strongly believed you both play vital parts in the war to come.” Kinvara continued, “It is with this belief that when your dragon arrived from across the sea and delivered your body to us, we tried to bring you back and the Lord Himself answered.”  
“But why now?” Daenerys queried, “The war against the Army of the Dead is won. Jon and I joined our forces and now its over. What purpose can I serve now?”  
“That is still unclear young one.” Kinvara answered solemnly, “The Lord has plans we sometimes cannot see nor predict, but rest assured there is a time when you and your children will be needed Daenerys.”

Dany felt uneasy. As though she was once again someone’s puppet, being used to do their bidding so that their hands remained clean. She was sick of riddles, of nonsense prophecies, of people taking advantage of her, of people’s betrayals. She wanted to rest, to return to the dreamless sleep she knew now greeted her in death. She wanted to be free of these burdens. She was only a young girl of three and twenty years after all. But wait, what had Kinvara meant by children? Surely Drogon could not be used to cause devastation once again. She would not dare risk her last remaining son’s life, for she could not bare it. “What if I refuse to help your God? Take Drogon and leave this place so that He may never use either of us.”  
“It sounds like a nice plan Your Grace.” Kinvara said with an air of honesty, “However, I myself am certain that a time will come, no matter how soon on the horizon, when you and your children will have no choice but to engage with the Lord’s plans for you.”  
“Children? But I only have the one dragon now.” Daenerys stated. Was their omniscient lord not aware that two of her dragons had perished whilst in Westeros? “And the two lives you carry inside of you, Your Grace.” said Kinvara calmly, as she tilted her head towards Dany’s midriff. 

“What?!” Daenerys said, shocked. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at Kinvara for more of an explanation.  
“You carry twins inside of you. They were created during your time in Westeros, on the sea we believe. See, there is a greater purpose as to why Melisandre brought fire and ice together.” Daenerys’ head was swirling, and not just from her headache. She wanted to argue, to accuse this mysterious woman of lying but in her heart she knew her statements were facts. For a time in Winterfell she had felt nauseous and fatigued, her body sore and tired, but she had put it down to the changing climate, the meagre food and the weeks on horseback. When Missandei had suggested she see a maester during their last few days at the Northern castle Daenerys had refused. She did not trust someone she didn’t know with that information so she intended to seek out a Dothraki healer once they returned to Dragonstone. However, events there after took a drastic turn for the worst and checking in on her personal health seemed unimportant when there were far more pressing issues at stake. Still, how could the little lives inside of her womb still be clinging on?  
“How can this even be possible?” she queried.  
“Oh, sweet child, this was always supposed to happen.” Kinvara smiled, “The dragon has three heads.”


	2. Catharsis

Daenerys sat cross-legged, perched on a padded bench. The double doors to the small balcony of her room were wide open, letting in a much-needed cool breeze. Her eyes were closed and she continued to inhale and exhale slow deep breaths. Kinvara and a couple of the other Red Priestesses had taught her some meditation and relaxation techniques over the past few months she had been sheltering in the sanctuary they had provided for her at the Red Temple. 

Still, this afternoon these were doing little to bring her back from the continuous pull into the dark void. The consuming guilt and disgust in herself, the shame and heartbreak, anger, despair and loneliness. Almost four moon turns had passed since her revival and yet she still could not escape the burden and tragedy of that horrific day in King’s Landing. In the moment the event itself had been shrouded in white noise for her. It was although she was having an out-of-body experience and had become the dragon herself. Her actions did not register then but they did now. 

The sounds of screaming followed by silence, the crashing of destroyed buildings, the shouts and cheers of the soldiers on the ground, most of them her own. They filled her head daily. If she wasn’t mad then it seemed like their ghosts were determined to drive her insane now. She knew she deserved it, to feel this way, to never forget the hurt she had caused. But she never meant to, she hadn’t wanted to. Cersei had forced her hand right? King’s Landing had been sacked before, numerous times. Her ancestors had done worse and been regarded as heroes centuries later. Hadn’t Aegon and Visenya torched Dorne for the murder of their sister and her dragon?

But in her heart Daenerys knew she had done an unspeakable awful thing no matter the circumstances or history. It made her feel sick and she hated herself for it, for what she’d become, for how she’d betrayed her morals, the people who believed in her. The only positive from these months of reflection was that she had worked out why she’d done it. How many times had simple grief been perceived as Targaryen Madness, she wondered. She had hurt more in that moment than she had for a long long time, and unlike before she was sat on her last remaining full-grown dragon, with her enemy right opposite her and a city filled with people who not only allowed her enemy to keep her seat of power, but would never accept a Targaryen ruler again. 

It had taken Dany a long time to realise that. Her brother had been a damn fool for believing that the lords of Westeros drank secret toasts to their return, and she was naïve enough to think that she could prove herself to them. She had done everything right turning her attention North and putting her campaign on hold to fight a greater threat. But after her sacrifices, she was still deemed unworthy to rule. Even when she had reclaimed the throne it wasn’t enough. It didn’t fill the hole in her heart all the loses, deceit and rejection had punctured. People merely glimpsed her son and screamed in terror, whilst her followers had admired her power. Westeros was not Essos, and now she knew she’d never return that side of the sea. 

The voices and screams consumed her mind, a phantom smell of death and decay tickling her nose. She tried to stop tears from spilling over, then a distinctive kick from inside her abdomen brought her out of her reverie. She didn’t know what to feel then but the sounds and the smell instantly disappeared. She looked down and placed her hand over the huge swell of her belly, hidden over a loose-fitting white dress. She was much larger than she’d been the last time she was pregnant, but of course she hadn’t been carrying two then. 

Her babes’ movements reassured her and brought her shame all the same. How was she worthy of being a mother when she had probably orphaned so many children? How could she cope nurturing two infants when she struggled daily to look after herself? She tried with all her might not to love them, it would be easier to do so. If she finally decided to give them away or if they did not survive, but she couldn’t help the way her heart swelled when she first felt their flutters inside her or the way she’d sometimes say goodnight to them when she’d cried herself out under her covers. A maester had told her that she was carrying at least one girl, perhaps two. She couldn't stop herself from envisaging them, they’d be born within the next two moon turns anyways. 

Daenerys got up from her seat then and walked over to the long full-body mirror and inspected her appearance. Her midriff stood out significantly, “You’ve made me the size of a small house.” she addressed to her bump softly. She looked up at her face, tired and a little gaunt. She had countless nightmares after all. She ran her fingers through her long wavy hair, tangled and knotted. It was bothersome to wear down in the balmy heat of Volantis but she dared not wear a braid anymore. Khals wore braids for their victories and she had been utterly defeated. She was no longer worthy of this visible symbol of strength. She had to do something about that.

Dany took to her table dresser, pulling a large pair of scissors out of one of the wooden drawers. She assumed they had been left in her room by accident after some of her clothing had had to be adjusted to house her growing stomach. She did not think they’d been left deliberately, especially given that some of her handmaidens had expressed concern in regards to her hurting herself. That stage had passed for the most part now, but she could still punish herself in another way. She gathered her hair in one hand and twisted it together, something that was a symbol of pride, power and her identity. She then took the scissors and impulsively began to cut through the thick twist of hair. Instantly white blond waves began to fall to the floor and within seconds the hair she’d been holding tightly was free from her head. 

Daenerys looked at the loose long tendrils sadly and threw them to ground before placing the scissors back on the sideboard. She stepped closer to the mirror, her hair now clasping to the soles of her bare feet, inspecting her new appearance. She now bore uneven shoulder-length waves, and bizarrely she couldn’t help but feel they looked…pretty. She felt the tension in her chest loosen somewhat, as though the burdens of her past life had finally begun to lift a little. She felt another kick inside of her, and thought of her twins and her Drogon, who was probably off circling the skies somewhere again. She lent her head down towards her bump and whispered “I’m only your mother now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week *double finger guns* Hope you enjoyed this introspective in Dany's mindset. Tried to express my understanding of That Event alongside some explanation Emilia provided in interviews. God bless her! Once again, thanks for reading! Comments welcome!


	3. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of childbirth ahead.

The pain emanating from Daenerys’ lower back was slowly transitioning from irritable to excruciating. She had been pacing the width of her bedroom for the past few hours at the advice of the Red Priestesses. Her labour had begun in the early hours of the morning, uncomfortable cramping awakening her from her light slumber. She had quickly acknowledged the wetness between her legs then and immediately called for assistance. She knew her babes were coming.

She continued to breath deeply, taking large, slow breath. She gritted her teeth as she experienced a particularly unpleasant wave of pain. Daenerys gripped the end of the bed frame until her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t help but whine out in agony as her innards contracted like a vice. Thankfully, after a minute the pain began to subside, as though a knot in a length of rope was being loosened. They were coming more frequently now; she swore the last was only a few minutes ago. “Oh gods, how much longer?!” she cried. Dany then felt a warm trickle of liquid run slowly down the inside of her leg and redness begin to pool on the floor. Blood. She began to panic, “I’m bleeding.” she whispered. 

“Let me check you over.” said one of the Red Priestesses. Two other young women were also present in the room, although they looked even younger than Daenerys, and she suspected they may be apprentices. Nonetheless she was grateful for the support they’d offered, moping her sweaty brow, rubbing her back and giving her words of encourage. Dany felt the discomfort of the older woman examining her, and thankfully she got the answer she was hoping for when the woman reappeared from underneath her sweaty lilac shift. “You’re ready. You’ll need to push when the next pain hits. Understood?” she said. Daenerys nodded. Inside she was terrified. 

She could not recall her last labour, for she had drifted in and out consciousness frequently and time had faded the memory. She had never seen her son’s body, and a similar fear gripped her now that history could repeat itself. Both pregnancies had been fairly straightforward, and yet her Rhaego had been born dead. She had been told the Lord of Light had brought her back for a reason, and she had concluded already that she would happily give her life for the health of her babes. 

Daenerys felt an overwhelming wave of pain. Definitively stronger than the last. It had consumed her much quicker too, barely giving her a chance to catch her breath. The two young handmaidens brought her to stand at the side of the bed should she need to sit. One stood on either side of her and each gripped her hands tightly. The midwife was on her knees in front of her, one hand pressing on her enormous bump, the other holding her legs apart. “Push for me now!” she instructed calmly. Dany pushed down with all the energy she could. She felt as though her body was been torn in two, that this is what burning alive felt like. 

She let go and released some of the tension. She was panting for air, and the handmaidens were echoing words of encouragement but she had zoned them out. She focused slowly on the words of the older woman, who was now clasping at something between her legs. “The head’s out. I need you to keep going.” Dany nodded, then pushed yet again, stopping when the pain became too sharp. “I need you to keep going, one last push!” She bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough she could taste blood, and focused on forcing out the being she could now feel being pulled from her body. 

She opened her eyes, now blurry with tears, when she heard the piercing cry from the babe. A tiny baby, with dark hair matted to its head, was wailing in the midwife’s arms. “You have a girl, Your Grace.” Daenerys immediately began to weep tears of joy; she had a living human child. She wanted to reach out and hold her but another wave of pain consumed her, so powerful her vision blurred and the pain between her legs swelled yet again. “Soon this one will be a big sister.” said one of the handmaids, taking hold of the infant after the midwife had snipped the cord, and wrapping her in a cloth. 

“I cannot stand any longer.” Daenerys proclaimed; her legs shaky beneath her like she too was a new-born animal. “Come, let’s get you onto the bed.” the midwife instructed. Dany climbed onto the bed on all fours, her knees pressed on the edge. In her dizzying state of mind, a crude thought passed through her head that she wouldn’t be surprised if her twins had been conceived in this position. “I can see you're crowning.” said the midwife, “On the next contraction push hard.” Seconds later the now familiar abdominal pain gripped her again. She did not know where her physical strength came from but she was determined to deliver these babes. “Stop, stop. You’re doing great!” 

In a matter of a handful of seconds, Daenerys was able to catch her breath. One of the handmaids rubbed her lower back, whilst another patted her forehead with a damp flannel. “At the next pains, one last push okay?” the midwife ordered. When it hit her Dany could only squeeze her eyes shut and gripped the bed sheets fiercely. A piercing scream erupted from the depths inside of her. Then she felt the tension abate and looked downwards to the peculiar site of a bloodied babe being pulled from her. She slowly turned over to see the midwife slowly rubbing the child’s back, who then gave a spluttered wail and began to cry loudly. “It’s another healthy little girl, Your Grace.” answered the midwife proudly. “You’ve done extremely well.”

Daenerys truthfully had not felt more battered in her life, and she had fought on a battle field and rode horseback for days on end. “Can I hold them?” she asked tentatively. The midwife nodded and smiled, as the handmaids helped her to lay on the bed, propped up by cushions. The newer babe, with white blonde hair identical to her own was placed in her right arm, whilst the darker haired girl was placed in her left. She looked down at the two fresh beings she’d carried inside of her many months, made out of love and passion in the north of the Narrow Sea. She believed she had been cursed, yet now she could not deny that the witch was an unreliable source of information. 

Daenerys’ heart swelled as she stared between the two small wriggling beings in her arms. Both gave out small whimpers and she looked to the women for assistance. “They're both hungry, here.” The older woman helped her to undo the string holding the front of her shift closed. She then wiggled the loose straps down her shoulders, revealing her full breasts. She advised Dany on how to feed and very quickly both babes latched on, suckling nosily. It was a peculiar sensation, and yet one she found instantly comforting. She had a family now. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, but she wasn’t alone anymore. 

~*~

The screams were once again echoing in her ears as Daenerys sat on the padded bench staring out onto the balcony. Only this time they did not ring from inside her head, but rather from the twin wicker bassinets located side-by-side in the corner of her room. She sighed as she got up from her seat and walked over to where her three-month-old daughters were squawking. Motherhood had been a true rude awakening. 

“Here little one. You’re being fed now see.” she soothed, as picked up the dark-haired girl. Lyanna. She pondered deeply over giving her child a Stark name, but the girl reminded her so deeply of her father. Therefore, she had wanted to honour the girl’s paternal grandmother, the woman her brother had loved all the same. After all, Lyanna’s twin was named after Daenerys’ mother. Rhaella was proving herself to be the louder and more boisterous of the two, but she was also easier to pacify. Lyanna on the other hand was often stubborn and grumpy. Everyday she reminded Daenerys more of Jon, and in turn made it harder for Dany to look at her. 

She was a reminder that these babes weren’t just hers. That they had a father out in the world. Daenerys assumed he was alive, although she had been informed by the Red Priestesses that he was not king. Well at least he didn’t murder me to steal my crown, she’d thought bitterly. She often pondered about his whereabouts, although she tried to tell herself she shouldn’t care. She liked to believe she had the best pieces of him present with her, that this new little family would love each other in the way Jon couldn’t love her. Unconditionally. 

Still, sitting crossed-legged on her bed with the babe sucking the life out of her tit, she bizarrely wished he was here supporting her in raising their children. He'd have been good at it, she thought. She appreciated the support and advice provided by the Red Priestesses, but she always felt guilty for taking up their time and resources, although they assured her they saw her as their saviour and were privileged to help. Yet it did nothing to prevent Daenerys from lying awake at night, staring up at the ceiling waiting for one or both of the babes to cry out for their next feed. She felt wholly inadequate, and often burst into tears when she couldn’t get her daughters to calm. She swore she had never been as weepy or highly-strung in all her life. The dreaded thoughts of leaving them behind with the Red Women even passed through her head on occasion. She had wanted to be a mother desperately, but had never had a mother figure in her life. She had contemplated handing them over to Kinvara, and flying off on Drogon, believing they’d be better off without her.

Then one would only settle when she sung her an old Valyrian lullaby, the other content to wrap her tiny hand around her index finger and clasp tightly during hugs. She looked down as Lyanna released her nipple, but the full-up babe still wriggled and fussed. “Oh, you are your father’s daughter.” Dany sighed sarcastically, beginning to rock the babe gently. The sweet little thing then looked up at her with wide eyes, identical to Dany’s own and both smiled at one another. Yes, these were her children and she will not abandon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad my search history now includes searches on contractions now. Sorry to disappoint those who wanted one of each for the twins but Dany's already has/had four sons and so I wanted to balance out the scales. Let me know what you thought!!


	4. Rejoice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small timejump ahead. Time for the terrible twos!

She was traipsing slowly through the gardens, the night dark and oddly cold surrounding her. She could see an outline of a person inside the stone house through the wide glass doors. Entering her home through the side door to the kitchen she hid around the corner in order to spy on the intruder, but he was no stranger to her. Still of lean build, his unruly dark curls bound together in a bun low on his head, donned in familiar dark leathers, his back was to her. She gasped, instantly recognising him stood in her living area. He swiftly turned around, his deep brown eyes meeting hers, he opened his mouth to say…

“Mama!” Daenerys was rudely awoken from her slumber, her eyelids being pinched open by a tiny pair of fingers, erupting her from her dream before she had a chance to react. Rapidly blinking her eyes to bat away sleep, she saw an identical set of brown eyes greeting her. “Come play.” said Rhaella, a beaming smile plastering her face. The toddler was still dressed in a white nightgown, her blonde waves messily spread out on Dany’s pillow. She looked around her room. It was barely light out, the space still grey in the early hours. “Its too early my little dragon. We can play later. Why don’t you go back to bed, hmm?” Daenerys asked the small girl sweetly. 

“No! Sissy not up. I stay?” Rhaella grinned, showing a set of tiny white teeth. Dany sighed; she was trying her best to get the twins to sleep in their own beds now that they were ‘big girls’, and yet she did not have the heart to deny her daughter’s request. These girls have made me soft, she thought. “Alright, but you best go straight to sleep.” Rhaella nodded silently, snuggling down underneath the sheets and spreading her limbs out like a starfish. Dany was baffled how a child who had only just past the age of two was capable of taking up so much room, but she smiled to herself nonetheless. 

Within a few minutes the previously eager girl had succumbed to sleep once again, and Daenerys took the opportunity in this quiet moment to gaze upon her daughter, thinking also of her sister who slept in the room opposite. Her twins had grown into sweet and talkative young girls, both looking more and more like a beautiful combination of herself and their father with each passing day. It was in peaceful moments like this that Daenerys was able to reflect on how far she’d come as a mother. 

She still vividly recalls the days when she did not possess the emotional strength to get up out of bed, leaving her babes to scream in their cots for what felt like hours, until a handmaiden would rush in panicked that they might be hurt. She remembers the days where they’d suckle at her breast and she would simply zone out, as though she wasn’t physically present, the times the Red Priestesses had to encourage her to display affection towards them so it’d be easier to bond. She is more relieved now than ever that the hazy fog that once clouded her mind and made her heart numb had passed. Dany began stroking the light blonde waves that had fallen in front of Rhaella’s face. Her mouth was a perfect O-shape and letting out quiet snores, her long dark eyelashes kissed her chubby cheeks. Her beautiful babe. Dany smiled wide at the sight, looping her arm around the girl and hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep before the day ahead. 

When she awoke the room was almost violently bright, the sun piercing through the thin curtains. Dany squinted and sat up to avoid the rays being directly in her eyes. Looking around she immediately noticed that her bed was unoccupied except for herself yet again. Her ears quickly picked up on the sweet sounds of laughter coming from just a few metres away. Getting up out of bed and adjusting her night gown she approached her daughters’ bedroom. She lent against the doorway, admiring her girls as they both sat on floor in between the small twin cots, stacking their painted wooden blocks into a tower. 

“Bigger, bigger!” Lyanna commanded, hastily grabbing the blocks that surrounded her and placing them on top of each other. Her dark brown curls sticking out in every direction, the sleeve of her nightgown sopping wet from where she’d been sucking on it in the night. Rhaella went to add the blocks she had in her hands onto the wobbling tower, and sure enough the construction came toppling down in front of the two girls, blocks tumbling to the floor. “Oh no!” exclaimed Rhaella, laughing at her mistake, but Lyanna had quite the opposite reaction. The little girl’s blue-green eyes instantly grew wide and wet at the devastated site, her bottom lip began to protrude outwards and within seconds she began to sob, “My tower!” Oh gods, tears before breakfast. Dany then rushed into the room, her motherly instincts taking over. She strategically stepped over the scattered blocks and picked up her first-born, rubbing her back soothingly as Lyanna sobbed into her shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s alright. We can all build another tower together later, and I’ll help you. How does that sound?” Dany asked sweetly. It then occurred to the young girl that she could in fact rebuild her creation just as easily, and she nodded as she sniffled into her mother’s hair. “Why don’t we go downstairs and get something to eat?” she said, addressing both girls.   
“Banana!” Rhaella cried excitingly, enquiring about her favourite fruit.   
“Yes, we’ll get you some banana. Will that cheer you up?” she asked Lyanna, who was still perched on her hip. She nodded and a small smile grew on her tear-streaked face. “Okay then.” Dany whispered, taking Rhaella’s hand and leaving the nursery. 

The rest of the day followed the now established routine Daenerys had set for herself and her younglings. Mornings were spent trying to get them to eat nicely, dressing them in pretty summer dresses, a particular highlight of hers, then brushing the tangles out of their hair and twisting it into a messy bun (which often involved much chasing and screaming), before she was able to leave the girls to their own devices, playing as she moved about their villa cleaning and tidying up. She had left the sanctuary of the Red Temple shortly after the girls’ first nameday. She appreciated their support greatly, but she was wary about the prospect of her children growing up inside a religious convent. The Priestesses had helped her financially, allowing her to secure a rundown villa, that had once belonged to a farmer. It was located a few miles from Volantis, in rolling farmland that was used to feed the city. 

The place had been dusty and dilapidated when she first arrived, but with help from the Red Priestesses and their handmaids the villa was soon cleared out and cleaned; furniture, food and toys donated, seeds planted in the garden’s flower beds. Jorah was wrong, dragons did plant trees. Now the house was finally beginning to feel like home. A safe hideaway tucked away from the rest of the world where she could raise her girls in happiness and peace. She often thought back to days when she used to ride into battle on dragon-back when doing the most mundane of household tasks. Think of the times she once commanded armies as she tidied away porcelain dolls. She thought she missed the power and respect those moments had gifted her, but then she’d remember the loss, the betrayals, the loneliness. Daenerys was not that person anymore, and she felt the invisible weight of the world no longer pressing down on her shoulders. 

Now her issues revolved around coaxing her children into trying new foods without them pulling a face of disgust and spitting it back out into her hand. Attempting to get her daughters down for an afternoon nap which involved a two-year-old Rhaella resistantly stamping her little feet until she passed out on the rug. And trying to teach her girls how to share their favourite toys, prompting Lyanna into a meltdown which left her wailing into her folded arms, her stubby legs flailing as she lay planked on the patio floor, Daenerys looking over her with a defeated look. Well, perhaps war was easier than daughters. “Oh yes, I know, life’s hard and the world is terrible. How about we build that tower of yours now?” she suggested, trying to change the mood. Lyanna’s cries instantly stopped, and she shot up, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. She took her mother’s outstretched hand and led her towards the nursery, eager to get started on the reconstruction. 

When night came and she’d repeated what felt like a million and one stories sat on the floor between the twins’ beds, it was finally time for the them to rest. “Goodnight my little loves.” she spoke softly, kissing Rhaella, who smiled in return before laying down amongst her covers. “Kiss! Kiss!” shouted Lyanna, feeling left out. “Yes, you get one too.” laughed Dany, kissing the girl on her pouted lips. “Goodnight Lya.", tucking the girl up tightly before turning to her sister, “Night night Rhae.” She then blew out a few of the candles leaving only a couple in the corner lit. The children still weren’t keen on sleeping in complete darkness, so what little light they provided offered them comfort. 

As Daenerys retired to her room for the remainder of the evening, dressing back into her shift and brushing the knots out of her short hair, she heard a rumble from outside her bedroom. The sound immediately warmed her heart. Opening the glass doors onto the terrace she was instantly met with Drogon’s snout. “Hey there, I missed you.” she spoke softly to the great beast, who lent over the garden wall to greet her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you in a while.” Her last remaining dragon kept much to himself nowadays, flying high amongst the clouds to avoid sightings, hiding between the vast mountains nearby to hunt and sleep in peace, visiting her only occasionally in the dead of night. She’d been meaning to walk into the mountain passes to seek him out herself, but she feared leaving the twins and she did not dare take them with her due to the threat of bandits hiding within the valley. 

She spoke for the best part of an hour recalling the past few days to Drogon, lovingly petting his scaled hide. Speaking to him about these mundane events was the only time she got to divulge her life, even if it happened to be to this wondrous creature and not another person. Still, it brought her great comfort, and Drogon seemed to rumble and snort at all the right moments in the conversation so she liked to think he’d understood her. After a particularly loud rumble in response, she scorned him teasingly, “Shh, you’ll wake the girls.” she whispered. Daenerys had introduced the twins to Drogon when they were still small babes, but they had yet to reunite with their older brother. 

She wasn’t worried they’d be scared; they were dragons themselves after all, but rather that they’d share information of their meeting accidentally with others. She’d thought about them blurting out that they’d petted a dragon whilst out somewhere public, like the marketplace in Volantis, and the thought made Dany’s blood run cold at the implications if someone was to then identify her as the Dragon Queen. She thought it best to wait until they were a little older so that she could make them promise to keep a secret. Drogon seemed to sense that she wished to retire, giving out a groan before lifting his head up. “I’ll see you again soon.” Dany said solemnly, watching as the large creature spread his wings, departing upwards into the grey clouds of the night sky. 

With her living, breathing furnace now gone Daenerys felt the chill in the air once more, and walked back into the warmth of the house once Drogon was out of sight. Now that she was alone once again she decided to use this little free time to tidy up after the girls. Moving down the stairs she picked up an array of discarded toys and clothing, walking into the living area to dump them in a basket. “Good evening your grace.”   
“By the gods!!” shouted Daenerys, spinning round towards the direction of the voice, her free hands on her rapidly beating heart. “Kinvara, what are you doing here?!” she asked, still in a perpetual state of shock. The Red Priestess emerged out of the shadows of the room, illuminated by the flickering of candlelight. The mysterious woman gazed out of the glass doors. “The nights are cooler.” she spoke, “Snow is coming.” She then turned to Daenerys and smiled, and Dany knew then she wasn’t referring to the weather. Her dreams came true after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna's dramatic just like her daddy. Who we'll be reuniting with next chapter! Thanks for sticking in there.


	5. Purgatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter run concurrent to chapter 4

Jon awoke to a cold wetness pressing up against his face. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, then felt a peculiar roughness against his cheek. Opening them he was met with the stark red eyes of his direwolf, his weight pressed down on top of Jon’s. “Good morning to you too” he smiled, as he adjusted himself in removing Ghost from atop of him, pushing him away from his frenzied attempts at licking his face. The large wolf then raced to the tied entrance of the tent and began to whine, eager for his master to let him out. Jon sighed but smiled nonetheless, getting up from underneath the furs to begin untying the rope that sealed the tent’s skins together tightly.

The moment they parted wide enough Ghost bolted out into the vast wilderness, either to relieve himself or desperate to begin a hunt. Jon looked around outside as he watched Ghost disappear into the treeline of the nearby forest. The Wildling camp was quiet at this hour, as the sun barely began to rise over the hilltops. Too many of them still tucked away in their drunken slumbers, Jon thought. He felt the chill in the spring morning air through his thin undershirt, and quickly began to retie the ropes of the entrance, desperate not to let the little remaining heat from the fire escape the enclosed space. 

Winter was over now, but the colony had only recently in the past few months been able to enjoy the fruits of spring, and still there was the absence of heat this far North. Yet it did not bother Jon in particular, at least not in the daytime. His nights however, alone amongst the furs of his makeshift bed, Ghost guarding the doorway, he’d often remember the nights he spent in the arms of his living furnace, Daenerys. She truly was fire made flesh. These nights were the worst, but he did not cry for her anymore. He’d been hollowed out, grown numb to it all. He’d expected such a thing to happen, a world away from it all now. And yet he still missed her. 

Returning to his bed seeing that the embers were still lit in the hearth from the previous night, he tried to return to his deep and dreamless slumber. And yet in his half-asleep daze as he glared into the smoking embers his mind continued to drift to her. What it would be like if she was there with him right now. What it would feel like to hold her in his arms and watch her sleep like he used to. Her blonde waves messily spread out on the pillow, her long dark eyelashes kissing her cheeks. Jon then turned himself over, away from the fires. He shouldn’t think of her like that anymore. She wasn’t his Dany by the end, he had to remind himself. She’d torched a city, and she wasn’t planning on stopping there. He’d done the right thing. He did the right thing for his family, for the realm. Hadn’t he, he asked himself.

It had never felt right to take her life. He knew that from the moment it he’d plunged the dagger deep into her chest, watched as droplets of scarlet blood trailed down her porcelain face, felt the dead weight of her body in his arms. He’d lost count of times he’d woken up in the night panting, sweating, screaming. He was sickened by what she'd done, but he also felt the same about his actions in response. His life’s worst regret. What had it gained him; he’d wonder? Cast out into the wilderness at the end of the world. Back where he started, yet without honour and dignity. He thought he’d finally be free of it all, and still the guilt plagued him years after. No matter how much Westeros progressed he’d never be satisfied that it took him drenching his hands in her blood to get them there. He punched the thin pillow underneath him aggressively, and tried desperately to return to sleep. Thankfully it took him under within minutes. 

“King Crow! We’re going on a hunt. Are you going to get your arse out of bed?!” laughed Tormund loudly through the tent sheet. Jon awoke suddenly, his loose hair covering his face, the furs tangled around his body. He had not slept peacefully. “I’ll join you soon.” he shouted in reply, “Give me ten minutes.” He heard Tormund retreat, then hurried to put on his furs, wash his face and grab Longclaw. Hunting would be a distraction at least. 

~*~

When the small group of Wildling hunters returned to the camp in the evening, the setting sun behind them, they dropped two decent-sized deer down next to a blazing fire and a couple of women immediately got to work skinning and gutting the animals ready for dinner. The hunt had been successful, and Jon felt somewhat content that it at least gave him purpose amongst his newly adopted community. 

As the night grew darker, the crowd grew merrier as rich meat and fermented liquids were passed around. Jon was already a few pints into his ale when Tormund bundled up to him, his drinking horn already empty. The larger man staggered, heartily slapping Jon on the back, his cup sloshing as a result. “Say here my little crow.” he said leaning into Jon, gesturing over to a small grouping of young Wildling women, “When was the last time you got your lil' pecker wet?” Jon spluttered on his ale at the question. His face reddening as a result. Tormund never did have any airs or graces, it was one of the qualities Jon admired in the man, however this particular enquiry made him shift uncomfortably. 

He had tried to let the past go. Daenerys was dead, and that was that. He was only a man of five and twenty years and he expected he had decades more to go, unless the temptation to tie a noose around his neck ever returned again. He followed Tormund’s line of sight. She was there amongst the cluster of girls, the young woman with honey-coloured hair. His memories then drifted to that precarious night between them, only a handful of months ago. 

He’d been in terribly miserable place, the second anniversary of the burning of King’s Landing. Two years without Daenerys. Recognising his sulking Tormund had plied him with barrels of alcohol. In Jon’s miserable and inebriated state, he had caught the attention of said girl. She was pretty and appeared to have a strong-willed nature, just like many Wildling women. His tent was closest. As they’d kissed passionately, he laid over her on his bed. Then drawing back for air her honey-coloured hair was suddenly red, her face hollow and lifeless. Jon shook his head and blinked rapidly, only for the woman’s hair to then turn white blonde; the same emptiness etched on her face. He quickly let go of her and turned away. “Please leave.” he said solemnly, retreating from her immediately and avoiding her gave. The young girl then adjusted her furs, recognising the change in mood. She quickly departed, and the moment she was gone, Jon wept. He could not fall in love again. He could not hold another woman who held his heart in his arms as he watched the life drain out of her. 

“I think I’m far too far gone for any of that tonight.” Jon said finally said in response.  
“That’s a lie and you know it.” laughed Tormund, “Come on, I’ll introduce you if it helps.”  
“No, I’m afraid I’m far too worn out. But best of luck to you friend.” Jon answered, getting up from the stump he’d been sitting on and bidding goodnight to his fellow hunters. Tormund looked at him forlornly but returned to his entertaining jests with others around the fire. 

When Jon returned to his tent Ghost was still absent, and as such the space was chilly without the wolf’s body heat. He began to light a small fire on the hearth hoping to create some warmth, the ale inside his belly doing little to warm his insides. The silence permeated his surroundings, the gathering outside a little too far away to be heard. Jon sat on some bundled furs next to the blazing heat, and stared into the flames. It was then he saw something move. At first, he thought it was just a flicker or a trick of the light the fire emitted, but then the images became clearer, shapes beginning to move and become more distinct. He moved in closer, curious as to whether his confused mind was playing tricks on him. 

Then he saw her, Daenerys. He recognised her instantly although her appearance was different. She was gazing downwards, a look of content and love settled on her features at what he could make out as her rounded stomach. He gasped, but before he had time to process such a sight, the vision changed just as quickly. A series of sights flickered before him. Unfamiliar women dressed in crimson gowns; he could hear chants in a foreign tongue echo inside his head. Then two small girls laughing appeared as they played in a garden, then deep black dragon scales. He leaned in closer, trying not to blink for fear of missing anything. He saw a large city, what appeared to be King’s Landing, rebuilt to its former glory from a bird’s eye view, then two young women both clad in black plated armour; one blonde, one dark-haired. Though he could not picture their features all that clearly. Lastly, he saw a quick flash of what appeared to be a weirwood tree, similar to the one that occupied the Godswood of Winterfell. He tried to look closer in an attempt to see more.

“Shit!” he swore, as one of the hot embers spat into his face. He then sat back away from the flames which had diminished in the hearth. His head was spinning and his heart pounding, and yet he knew it was not the result of the alcohol he’d consumed. Daenerys was alive, he knew it in his gut. She’d been resurrected as he once was. She’d been pregnant, there were children. His children, and they were out there in the world. He felt a mixture of sickness and excitement muddled together. Yet those feelings were shadowed by a rapidly growing sense of anxiety. Something was going to happen, something pivotal. He’d been sent this vision for reason; he had a part to play and this time he was going to make amends for his actions. He was once told he’d be fighting their wars forever, and now it seemed it would be true once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this change of pace and Jon's POV. The big reunion's happening next!!


	6. Collision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Split POVs for this chapter (and probably beyond too)

Stepping off the ship and onto the dock Jon’s balance was a little worse for wear, his legs shaky as he takes the first steps onto dry land for the first time in almost two moons. The port of Volantis bustled with a myriad of sailors, dock-men and travellers alike, and amongst the throng of people he quickly spotted a single woman donned in a crimson gown. She stood watching Jon disembark and collect his belongings from the harbour, her vibrant clothing making her stand out from the rest of the crowd. Jon knew she was there for him, waiting for his arrival, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t desperate for answers to the vision her mysterious god had sent him.

When the fires had died down Jon’s hut was plunged into darkness. A conflict quickly bloomed inside of him. He remembered how the Red Woman Melisandre had claimed that her god sent her visions in the flames, and such a thought made Jon feel deeply unsettled. A greater force was calling to him, and as he sat in the dark with the bitter cold of the night seeping into his bones he agonised over his actions. The True North had given him back his freedom, away from the waring and politicking he had known since he was a green boy. But it was also yet to provide him with a life he was truly satisfied with.

Even if he was interpreting what he had seen in the flames as literal and true then Daenerys was alive, having birthed two daughters. And danger was coming for them. He had chosen duty over love twice before, and both had led to his hands soaked with blood. Now his duty was to love. His siblings no longer needed his protection, neither did the Freefolk in all honesty. But he could protect his children, he could protect her this time. 

The following morning as the sun began to rise over the surrounding hilltops Jon began to pack a rucksack made out of a patchwork of animal skins. Hastily grabbing clothing, a dagger and food rations, he attached Longclaw to his hip. Leaving his small hut and mounting his horse he looked around at the encampment, silently saying a farewell to the colony that had welcomed him with open arms. Just as he was about to depart, Tormund stumbled out of nearby tent, one that was definitely not his own. “Ah, my little crow. What are you doing about this early?” he questioned, then noticing the large sack slung on Jon’s back, “Going somewhere far?” Jon sighed. He didn’t want to explain what he had seen or divulge his plans, for he knew the friendly Wildling would think him mad. But he also could not lie to his closest friend. 

Explaining took some time, for Tormund, like many other Wildlings, was sceptical of others' proclaimed gods. But he was also present at Castle Black during Jon’s resurrection, and so the red-haired man was forced to accept that Daenerys’ return to the living was entirely possible. He had also witnessed the misery Jon had endured without the presence of his Dragon Queen and he knew his little crow deserved happiness wherever he managed to find it. When Jon disclosed that he had to leave because Daenerys had birthed his children and he was scared for their safety, the Wildling's first response was to joke about Jon's "tiny pecker" finally working, to which Jon could only roll his eyes. However, with this knowledge he assisted Jon to Eastwatch on horseback, and from there onwards Jon travelled alone to White Harbour. He gave an emotional farewell to his Wildling companion once they reached the collapsed Wall, and such a goodbye reminded him of their unnecessary farewell in Winterfell, what felt like a lifetime ago. Jon wished for Ghost to accompany him, but he knew Essos was no place for a direwolf. “Don’t worry I’ll look after him.” Tormund promised. He tried his best to keep his identity hidden in his sister’s newly established independent kingdom. Thankfully, his plain tunic and unkempt appearance meant he no longer looked like a king. 

He managed to secure passage on a ship heading to Braavos, and from there another to Volantis. Travelling the Narrow Sea gave him time to reflect on his vision and what it could mean for the future. Most notably his mind kept drifting back to the image of the two small girls. The last time he had sailed the Narrow Sea he had secretly hoped as he laid naked on his back, a sweaty Dany draped over him, that his seed would take root inside of her. Such memories caused his heart to twist and coil in regret and worry as each day they sailed closer to their destination. 

Approaching the unknown Red Priestess, she lowered her hood and revealed her dark hair, “Jon Snow, we’ve been expecting you. My name is Kinvara and I am a loyal servant to the Lord of Light” she spoke directly, “Daenerys Targaryen is waiting for your arrival. We must journey out of the city to meet her. Don’t worry, your questions will receive answers soon.”  
“So, she’s alive then?” Jon asked, desperate for confirmation. He had only seen her pregnant in the vision, and he’d hoped that childbirth had not reclaimed her. “Daenerys Stormborn has been reborn to remake the world, as were you. Come now, she has been waiting.” Kinvara announced with a small smile. She then led Jon over to where two horses were being held at the reins by a young boy. Kinvara handed him a single coin then she and Jon mounted the mares. “Keep close, Jon Snow. We have a few hours ride ahead of us, for the city streets are busy. I wish not to lose you.”

Riding through the streets of Volantis was unlike any environment Jon had ever been in. The narrow dark streets were filled with people, and the shouts, sights and smells invaded his senses. Only the deep crimson of Kinvara’s dress helped Jon identify her on her horse ahead of him. It was a far cry from the vast emptiness beyond the wall. He imagined that such a place would have been similar to what King’s Landing would have been like before that fateful day, and the thought made Jon feel physically uneasy, as he rode ever closer to the woman who had been responsible for such carnage. 

Soon the busy city streets became quieter, until he was riding side-by-side with Kinvara, as she led them along dusty country lanes. The surroundings opened out into a wide lush-green valley, cut up into fields and orchards, with smallholdings dotted in between. This place reminded him of the North, and he found it idyllic in the setting sun. Then Kinvara began to ride out in front of him a little, slowing down her horse in front of a small manse just off the lane. “We have arrived, Jon Snow.” she said, sliding down from her horse and pushing open the wooden doors which led into a small courtyard. Jon dismounted too, and followed her hesitantly inside. Before him was a small villa surrounded by gardens, walled for protection on all four sides with the occasional small tree lined against it. He’d never imagined the Mother of Dragons who had once occupied castles and pyramids living in a house so quaint. 

“She is expecting your arrival, but please be cautious. She is displeased about your presence.” Kinvara warned with a serious note.  
“Of course.” Jon replied. He expected as such, these were extraordinary circumstances. However, he could only ignore the rapid beating of his heart against his rib-cage as the Red Woman led him inside. 

~*~ 

Daenerys felt like she was going to vomit. She had not felt in such a perpetual state of nausea since she was pregnant. She was pacing the length of her living quarter, anxiously worrying her hands together. She had put the twins down for their afternoon nap only an hour earlier, for she wanted to keep them out of sight. “He should be here soon, Your Grace.” said Lykka, one of the other Red Priestesses Dany had become familiar with during her time at the Red Temple. She was grateful for the company, as she knew Kinvara had travelled to the docks to escort Jon. She felt uneasy about his presence in her home, but she wanted to disrupt the girls as little as possible, and so had agreed for their meeting to take place here. 

Deep in thought, she barely heard the knock on the front door. “They’re here.” Lykka announced, getting up from her seat and heading to the door, leaving Daenerys standing alone in the middle of the large room. Then, seconds later, entering underneath the archway were the two Red Priestesses, closely followed by Jon. He wore a plain grey tunic and black leathers, his hair was tied in a bun which sat low on his head. His face looked older and more defined, and as their eyes met for the first time in over two years both instinctively gasped. “Your hair.... its shorter.” he whispered, somewhat in a state of shock. 

Such a simple comment instantly enraged Dany, as though a match had been lit. The Dragon awoken once more. “Is that all you can say?” she said with a laugh that barely disguised her erupting anger. “Dany, I- I’m sorry.” he spoke, taking a small step towards her.  
“Sorry? You murdered me!! You killed me with my children sitting in my womb! You killed me in a lover’s embrace! You were a coward!” she began to shout, with such passion and grief she felt the energy expel from her small frame. "I know I was." he said shamefully with his head hung low, but she ignored his statement and continued with her condemnation. “This what you did to me!” Instinctively she tore open the ties at the front of her shift and pulled the top half down, not caring one iota that she was exposing her breasts to him. 

Jon looked up and gasped, his eyes suddenly growing wet as he glared at the shocking sight of the deep pink stab wound piercing her chest underneath her left breast. It heaved with anger as she glared back at him in disgust, her own tears already trickling down her cheeks. “Dany I-" Jon tried to splutter out, but the site in front of him instantly drenched him in shame and sorrow which made him feel sick to his stomach. “No. You no longer get to call me that name.” she interrupted, “I don’t need your empty apologies.”, unafraid to look him straight in the face.

She let out a heaving sigh and broke her gaze. “I can’t do this.” she whispered in defeat, stating it to herself as much as to the three other people in the room. She hoisted up her shift to cover herself once more. “I want him out of my house.” she spoke softly but with confidence, leaving the room through one of the glass doors that led out onto the patio and departing into the gardens.

Stunned, Jon turned to the Red Women behind him who stood side-by-side. Kinvara nodded solemnly to the woman next to her who had greeted them at the door. Said woman quickly left the room, rushing to follow Daenerys outside, where it was quickly darkening as the sun disappeared below the valley. Jon felt a similar darkness pass over his own mind. “It was to be expected.” Kinvara said with an air of sincerity. Jon sighed in response. He supposed that at least was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that went well *twiddles thumbs* Don't worry, you'll get more explanation as to why our two star-crossed-lovers have been brought back together soon.


	7. Decipher

Daenerys felt her chest constrict uncomfortably. She wheezed as she sped through her flowered gardens and plonked herself down on a small stone bench underneath a scarce tree. Her diaphragm heaved as she tried desperately to force air into her lungs, sweat starting to coat her skin, her eyes blinking rapidly in panic. Her murderer was in her home, right in front of her. The last time she’d looked into those stunning brown eyes she’d felt her heart stagger between beats, the life drain out of her, the struggle to keep her own eyes open. 

“Your Grace, it’s alright. Take slow deep breaths.” said the Red Priestess, Lykka, as she approached. She took a seat next to Dany, and rubbed her back comfortingly, instructing her on how to control her breathing. “I apologise.” Daenerys finally spoke, “I did not intend to cause such a scene, only you must understand this is all quite overwhelming.”  
“Yes, of course Your Grace. But we also have important information to disclose to the two of you. It is reason why he has been brought here. The Lord of Light had commanded it as so.” Lykka answered with grace. Dany wanted to roll her eyes at such a statement but she knew it would disrespectful in front of one of His devoted worshippers. She guesses she was grateful to Him in a sense too, for resurrecting her and allowing her a life with her girls. But that also did not mean she wished to do His bidding in return for such a gift.

“When you are ready, we shall be waiting for you inside.” Lykka said with a small but warm smile. Daenerys tried her best to return it, as she watched the Red Woman make her way back through the flower beds and into the house. She knew in her heart that Lykka was being truthful, and that only something of the upmost importance would bring two Red Priestesses into her home with a man who’d been living half a world away. But if truth be told, she was terrified of Jon. She’d trusted him completely, loved him with her whole being, wished for a future where he’d rule alongside her. Breaking the wheel together, and in return she’d received a knife in the chest, as her tongue had begged entry into his mouth. 

Daenerys eventually gave a loud sigh, standing up and straightening her clothes. She had stood in front of men who had betrayed her countless times before, she will not cower now. Slowly she began her walk back into the house. She had to face him, and she would not be a lovesick fool again.

~*~

Jon was getting nervous. The Red Woman whose name was Lykka had re-entered the living quarter, and informed himself and Kinvara that Daenerys just needed some time to process the situation alone. He could not condemn her for that nor her reaction to their reunion. He remembers staring up at the faces of his Night’s Watch brothers who had murdered him. The anger and betrayal he’d felt at them. He understood completely and somehow that made him feel worse. He’d inflicted that pain on her. 

Before he could reconcile with himself any further, Daenerys entered the room. Her eyes looked glassy and her face flushed. Jon wanted to comfort her but he knew that she did not want his affection, so he merely gave her a sombre look. “You said the Lord of Light has brought us together for a reason.” she announced to the Red Women with conviction, “So what is the purpose of all this?”  
Kinvara seemed to smile at this question. “R’hllor has rebirthed the both of you for a greater purpose. Ourselves, alongside the late Priestess Melisandre, believed that this was for the purpose of defeating the undead, however now we believe our interpretations to be incorrect.”

Both Jon and Daenerys looked at one another, both equally unsettled about where this monologue was heading. Kinvara continued, “There is a greater war against the supernatural on the horizon that we must prepare for, and perhaps unfortunately your family will be at the heart of this conflict.” Jon felt his blood grow cold even in the balmy heat of the evening. He did not wish to be tied up in another war. Let the fickle men of the world tear themselves apart, he thought cynically. He had tossed aside the love of his life for his family and his country, only to be tossed aside in return, with nothing but dishonour and a besmirched reputation to show for it. 

“There is to be great strife in Westeros that will have devastating consequences for us all. The Three Eyed Raven has inhabited your brother Brandon Stark, and seeks to cause devastation and undisputed control over the realm from the highest position of power.” said Kinvara.  
“What!! That cannot be.” Jon interrupted, his anger flaring at such an allegation against his younger brother. “My brother is a good man, and he’s been a good king.” He caught a glimpse of Daenerys snigger at his defence, but simply ignored her reaction. He knew he was treading on thin ice with her already.   
“Yes, Brandon Stark was a good young man from what we have seen in the flames. But unfortunately Jon Snow, he is no longer your brother anymore. He’s different from how you remember him to be, isn’t he?” Kinvara asked. 

With that Jon fell silent. He could not deny that Bran was detached since their reunion at Winterfell. Sansa had also privately informed him that Bran was no longer the brother they’d remembered. Defeated, Jon bowed his head and Kinvara continued. “We believe that the Three Eyed Raven is ancient, and tied to the Children of the Forest.”  
“The original inhabitants of Westeros?” Daenerys interjected, intrigued by the divulged information.  
“Correct.” replied Lykka, “Their population was almost eradicated by the invasion of Man, though their magic remains strong in parts of Westeros, hidden in the most reclusive of places. However, now they have co-opted a young Brandon Stark and seated him to the highest position of political influence in the land. They have the power to shape the continent to their own will now.”

“But I’ve heard no reports of outbreaks of war and deceit in Westeros.” said Jon. Although he’d cut off contact with his sister in North, the Freefolk had spread out into new communities beyond the wall. Most maintained a respectful relationship with rangers from the Night’s Watch, and were therefore able to obtain news from them. News that spread fast amongst the close-knit Wildling colonies. 

“Not yet Jon Snow, but your brother’s body is young. He has many years ahead of him. The future is uncertain but we must prepare nonetheless. That is why we have brought you together.” said Kinvara, in a calm tone that made Jon feel uncomfortable. How could she be so relaxed about the whole situation, he thought. These damn Red Priestesses and their foreknowledge. “Why us?” asked Daenerys, her tell-tale frustration he had seen on numerous occasions barely masked. “Sorry, but if you are not aware we are not on the best of terms since he put a dagger through my heart. What can we now possibly offer to save Westeros? I only have one dragon left, and I will not risk his life fighting for a country that took everything that mattered to me.”

Jon felt uncomfortable at her words, but he knew she was not wrong. He also agreed, why them? Hadn’t they both suffered and sacrificed enough in their short lives? “Because you share children.” Kinvara said simply. The hairs on Jon’s body rose as though a draught had passed through the room. “Together you have brought life into the world. A union of ice and fire. Blood of dragons and wolves. Of Old Valyria and the First Men. Your daughters will be the ones who will bring the dawn. The prophesied Azor Ahai and Lightbringer we have been waiting for.”

At that Daenerys snapped. “No! My children are merely babes! I will not bring them into a war because your mysterious fire god told you so!”   
“You have time Daenerys. This is not something we expect from you overnight. That is why we have brought you together. Your daughters must be skilled in more than just flying on dragonback. Jon Snow, you have those skills the Lord of Light wishes for his soldiers to possess. Combat, swordsmanship, battle tactics and horse riding. You can equip your children appropriately.” said Lykka, addressing him. Jon struggled to speak, overwhelmed by the words spoken by the Red Priestesses. He looked over to Daenerys, who had begun to sob at the prospect of the dangerous future now placed upon her children. “No.” Jon said simply yet sternly. “We will not be pieces to be played in this war. Just let us live in peace. I’m done fighting battles against the realm of magic. Find your heroes elsewhere.”

“Oh, but it must be you.” said Kinvara with a smile that made Jon want to deck her. “You are the last Targaryens, and you will deliver justice, vengeance, fire and bl-“  
“Mama, who’s dat?” Suddenly, all eyes turned to the small, high-pitched voice. A gasp caught in Jon’s throat as he looked into the face of the tiny, dark-haired girl stood hidden behind the banisters of the stairs wearing a white nightgown. She stared back at him in return, her eyes wide and a confused little look on her face. She seemed a beautiful timid thing, but before Jon look at her more closely Daenerys swooped past him, quickly wiping away her tears and adopting a motherly persona. 

“Just an old friend of Mama’s, Lyanna. It’s still time for sleep, come on.” she spoke softly, picking the girl up as though she weighed a small sack of flour, and quickly carrying her back up the stairs. Lyanna, Jon thought. After his mother. Daenerys’ had named their daughter after his mother, and she was beautiful. It was as though in that moment it hit him that he was a father. Since his vision in the flames they had seemed nothing but a dream, faces he could barely picture to nameless females. But now they were here in the same house he stood in. One had a looked straight at him with wide and inquisitive eyes, whilst the other must still be asleep upstairs. Of all that had happened that evening, this revelation was the most surreal to him. 

As he was processing such thoughts and feelings, Daenerys reappeared a few minutes later, halfway down the stairs. “I think that we’re done here for tonight. It’s been a lot, and it will take me a while to resettle the girls. They’re fitful sleepers. May we continue this on the morrow?” she asked, her voice a little frail, clearly emotionally exhausted by the meeting. “Of course, Your Grace.” said Kinvara. Both Red Priestesses bowed their heads in respect. Daenerys then looked at Jon with an unreadable expression, one that looked almost like an apology to him as she then immediately returned up the stairs. 

“Come Jon Snow. We have arranged room for you at an inn nearby.” said Kinvara, ushering him out the front door and leading him over to their horses. The night was now cooler, the sky overhead pitch black. “It’s almost like you foresaw this evening going badly?” he snarked.   
“Nonsense, Jon Snow." she replied, "It was to be expected.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's the reason and surprise, surprise Bran (well not really him) is evil *muhaha* Don't worry, more conflict regarding the infamous events of 8x05 will be discussed next time (and maybe some Daddy!Jon moments too...)


	8. Respite

Jon slept fitfully that night, more so than he had in the months it had taken to travel to Daenerys’ front door. He stared up at the rafters at the meagre inn Kinvara had put him up in, his mind constantly drifting back to the faces of Daenerys, her teary eyes and short cropped hair; and the little girl on the stairs, peering at him with innocent wonder. When he did drift off out of sheer exhaustion if felt like he’d slept mere minutes when a loud banging on his door awoke him, the inn keeper’s wife informing him that a Red Woman was waiting for him outside. 

The morning was comfortably warm and breezy when they rode up together to Daenerys’ villa. Daenerys was already viewing him from the balcony as they arrived and began to tie up the horses once more. However, Jon noticed Kinvara was yet to dismount her horse. “You will not be needing my presence today, Jon Snow.” she said calmly, “I have given you all of the information you require as of this current moment. The conflict you have with Her Grace I believe concerns matters of the heart.” Jon sighed; he knew there was a conversation he desperately needed to have with Daenerys but the prospect only filled him with dread. 

The Red Woman merely smiled at him as she turned her horse back around and made her way up to the lane, leaving Jon alone in the dusty courtyard. With trepidation he walked up to the house, but before he could knock the door swung open revealing Daenerys. His insides still flipped when he met her gaze, still in a state of disbelief that she was real again. She was dressed in simply lace white gown; her short locks tucked behind her ears. She still looked so young despite the life she’d lived. “Come in.” she said simply, moving out of the way to let him pass her. 

He walked into the living quarter; the same one they had frequented the night before. It was beautifully decorated yet simple, with dark oak sideboards, and a pit in the middle that was filled with large cushions in deep colours to sit on rather than a chaise. “Erm… would you like some tea?” she asked feebly.   
“Um, no thank you.” Jon replied, giving a forced smile. “Where are the girls?” he asked with curiosity.   
“They’re with Lykka, walking out in the nearby orchard. I can trust her with them. I wanted us to be alone this morning.”

An uncomfortable atmosphere took hold of the room, until Daenerys broke the silence. “I appreciate you travelling all this way? Must’ve been a difficult decision for you to leave Westeros behind?” she asked coyly.  
“Not really, not after the vision in the flames.”  
“You were beyond the wall were you not?” said Daenerys, her voice laced with a notable anxiety, “Your people must have been worried about your leaving.”  
“Tormund was actually quite supportive.” Jon answered, knowing what she was trying to get at.  
“No one else?”  
“No, no one else.” Jon said with a small smile. 

He expected Daenerys to return the smile but she merely scoffed at his statement, such a noise caused him some concern. “You murder me in cold blood and they chuck you out to the back of beyond. The family you love so much. Tell me, do you feel loved by them in return?” she snarled. Jon’s blood began to boil at the accusations she was making about his siblings, but he also could not ignore that horrible little voice in the back of his head. The one that in the darkest of nights asked himself that exact question. He’d sacrificed his future for them, and yet he didn’t even have a clue where Arya was. He didn’t know if he’d ever see any of them again. 

“I did what I had to do to keep them safe.” his voice barely holding on to a semblance of calm. “You’d slaughtered a city Daenerys, and were willing to take down anyone who’d disagree with you.”  
“Anyone who’d disagree with me?!” she laughed, her anger noticeably rising, “I asked you to rule alongside me if you don’t recall! A person who desires unquestioned power does not then willing offer to relinquish some of it to someone else. But you didn’t love me enough it would seem.” As she finished her sentence her throat bobbed as she desperately tried to bite down a sob. “I did what I did to protect my family. I’m their older brother. I have a duty to protect them!” he said, his voice getting louder. How could she not see his reasoning?   
“You are their cousin and I was your family too! I carried our children inside my belly!” At the mention of the twins her tears began to fall.

That knocked the air out of him for sure. “I didn’t know.” he whispered.   
“No, you didn’t know, because you didn’t look at me, didn’t touch me, repulsed by the thought of what we’d done together.” she sneered, intentionally twisting the metaphorical knife in. “And you never asked!” Jon shouted in return, provoked by her nastiness. “My whole life was a lie. The man I thought was my father my uncle, my mother buried underneath my feet this whole time, the woman I loved-” He stared at her, his eyes wide, breathing deeply. He doesn’t think he’d ever said this out loud to anyone. “Your aunt.” she followed up. “Our family has been closer. I thought at first you’d killed me for my throne, but I don’t know if it's worse that it was for your treacherous siblings.”  
“Daenerys. Don’t.” he warned.  
“I wouldn’t have harmed them unless they’d pose a direct threat you know. If you’d been by my side, I’d never harm the people you loved just for the sake of it.” In that moment Jon wanted to believe her. She sounded truthful.   
“You torched a city just for the sake of it.” he bit back. 

Her tears kept following as she bowed her head in shame. “That wasn’t for the sake of it.” she said with confidence. “I told you at Dragonstone that I chose fear.” Jon sighed loudly, and shook his head. “You think I don’t regret it!” she almost screamed, making him glad they were alone. “You think I don’t hear their screams pass through my head every night, or that I don’t hold my girls and think how I took children away from their mothers. I hate myself for it but I cannot change the past.” Relief then instantly swept over Jon. She was remorseful, something that she wasn’t when he’d reunited with her in the Throne Room, still soaking up her greatest victory. 

“Then you understand now why I had to do it.” he said, taking on a quieter softer voice.   
“No.” she said fiercely, surprising him. “It’s not the first time the city had been sacked. Your father stood by the usurper who had your baby siblings’ bodies dropped at his feet.” Jon’s stomach twisted into a tighter knot at the mention. “I didn’t intend to massacre another city, not unless they opposed me but then war is war. King’s Landing was intended to prevent that. I thought no one would dare oppose me after they discovered what I could do to their cities and castles. Lady Olenna Tyrell once told me to be a dragon, that people would not follow me unless they feared me. The wisest advice from any adviser I think I ever received.”, she finished with a sombre look. 

However, Jon was still confused. “But why do it at? The city had surrendered, you’d won back your throne. So, it was just a demonstration of power?” Daenerys grew sadder, turning to look out of the glass doors. “I’d hadn’t felt so powerless in such a long time in that moment.” she spoke softly. “I’d lost my old bear, my sweet Missandei, another child… and you.” At that she turned to look directly at him with a burning look. “What I was doing didn’t feel real, like a white noise was finally drowning everything else out.” Jon didn’t know what to say to that. He’d felt that anger in the midst of battle. Understood how it made him slice his sword through anyone that he considered the enemy with ease. “I couldn’t trust that Cersei wouldn’t have a trick up her sleeve. She did not deserve mercy, only justice.” Jon looked down at the floor, remembering his own men getting high on the euphoria of warfare, how they seemingly wanted revenge against the Lannisters just as much, only for Ned’s death and the Red Wedding. 

After a few moments of silence, Jon spoke. “It never felt right. What I did to you. I am sorry.” Daenerys did respond other than turning to look back out the glass doors. “I thought in time after seeing the realm prosper that I know I’d made the right decision but that feeling never came. Just guilt.” He could see from her side profile that she was trying not to cry in front of him. There was the softer side he knew existed underneath her dragon hide exterior. “I never stopped loving you. I guess I just didn’t know how to express it.” He thought he heard her sniff at that. “If you want me to leave I will. I’ll go back to Westeros, back North. I’m sure you can find other skilled people to train our daughters in combat if you believe the Red Priestesses’ prophecies.”

Daenerys remained silent and as Jon began to turn towards the front door, concluding that she had no more to say, she spoke. “Stay.” she said softly. “I- I need your help.” she confessed shyly, as though she was admitting a great weakness. “I don’t trust many people here anymore. I haven't forgiven you fully, not yet, but a father deserves to know their children.” Jon only smiled in response. “They’ll be back within the hour I presume. Would you like to meet them?” His smile grew even bigger at the possibility.   
“Then I’ll take some of that tea then if you’re still offering.” he replied.

~*~  
The hour passed with only light conversation, mainly about how Daenerys had acquired the house or Jon’s journey on the Narrow Sea. It felt easy talking to her about trivial things, and it painfully reminded Jon of all the nights they spent sharing their personal thoughts and childhoods as they lay together in tangled sweaty bedsheets. Before he could reminisce any further about those nights a knock at the door brought him straight back to the present. 

Daenerys stood up and made her way over to answer it, Jon just catching a nervous look wash over her face. “Mama!” a little voice shrieked. “Lookit! We got apples.” Jon stood, nerves taking hold of him as well, as he prepared to meet his daughters properly for the first time. He caught the eye of Lykka just outside the door as she handed the children over to their mother. She then bowed her head to Daenerys and bid the young children farewell. 

When the door was shut, Daenerys immediately took the hand of each girl, leading them into the living quarter. Both peered up at Jon with wide eyes. The same dark-haired girl from the previous night gave him a shy smile, whilst Jon’s heart seemed grow again as he first layed eyes on her blonde twin. A miniature copy of Dany, only with his own dark brown eyes staring back at him. “Who are you?” said young girl queried in a cheery manner.   
“The man! Mama’s friend!” Lyanna exclaimed. Daenerys gave a small laugh. How easy the world was through the eyes of a two-year-old. She bent down to be eye-level with them both, and Jon followed suit. “This man is your papa.” she said simply.

“Hello.” said Jon in response, trying desperately not to make the situation too overwhelming.   
“What’s a papa?” asked the blonde girl.  
“A papa is just like a mama but he’s a man, Rhaella.” Daenerys answered. Rhaella, Jon thought. She named both of their children after their mothers. The mothers neither of them knew. He felt sad for himself and Daenerys at that. Rhaella then smiled and approached Jon, sticking out her tiny hand at him, seemingly willing to accept the stranger easily enough. “Hello!” she said with a gleaming grin on her face.   
“Oh, um it’s nice to meet you.” stumbled Jon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d interacted with a child this young before, but he smiled back at her nonetheless. Lyanna on the other hand just continued to stare at him with her wide eyes and a shy smile, burrowing into her mother. “Are you going to say hello or are you being shy?” Daenerys asked her, but the toddler only buried her face into her mother’s neck. Daenerys mouthed an apology but Jon only smiled in return. He knew it’d take time. 

“Do you want to see flowers?” asked Rhaella, excitedly.   
“Oh erm, yes.” said Jon. The small girl wrapped her tiny hand around his fingers and immediately began dragging him to the glass doors that led to the garden. Daenerys smiled when Jon looked back at her, giving her approval, and she picked up Lyanna and followed after them. The afternoon was spent with Rhaella blabbering about the plants and Jon trying to distinguish her words and reply at all the right moments. Daenerys occasionally tried to hide her laugh at his blunders. Jon thought back to that day in King’s Landing and what he did to her. He’d always regretted it, but maybe it made his decision feel a little lighter on his consciousness knowing that they’d eventually both end up in this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I hope I did that conversation justice *eek* The new Targaryen prequel series is gonna make Dany look like a damn saint in comparison.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments welcome!


End file.
